Our First Kiss
by Joy Booth
Summary: Nothing has ever gone as they planned. Gallya, Tag for light language
1. The Set up

Their first kiss was not what she expected. Then again the first time she met him they were sworn enemies and a day later he slipped an engagement ring on her finger, so what did she know. Still, she never thought that having her lips pressed to his would be so terrifying.

As she tried to force the air from her lungs to his all she could think about was all the times they had almost kissed. Solo was kneeling beside her doing chest compressions, but it didn't seem to be working. Illya's face remained motionless, pale as a ghost.

With each breath she remembered the way he held her in his arms that first night in the hotel. She felt his hands lingering on her thigh for much longer than it took to flip the switch on the transmitter. She couldn't forget the way his eyes begged her to stay for a drink that last day in Italy.

When they met again on the roof, the moment was over. She wanted to walk over to his side, but she wasn't a chop shop girl anymore, she was an agent from another organization. The lines were drawn. Even if they were on the same team today, she knew she would always be MI5 to him and he would continue to work for the KGB.

Istanbul was a different type of mission. She was busy distracting the mark while Illya and Solo searched his room for evidence. They weren't sharing a room anymore, which left her surprisingly lonely.

The distance increased after that. Often times she would go days without seeing her teammates. She was still in training, which meant frequent trips back to England. The boys on the other hand had missions for their own agency's.

So when Solo turned up one day with two first class tickets to Rio De Janeiro, she was genuinely happy to see him. She would have been happier to see Illya, but she kept that thought to herself. On the flight, they were every bit the happy honeymooners they were pretending to be.

They had just checked into the hotel and begun discussing the case, when there was a knock at the door.

"Why don't you get that, dear? It's probably the maid with fresh towels," Solo said in full loving husband character.

Her hand was on the gun in her holster when she opened the door to find Illya on the other side.

"You should ask who it is before you open the door, Kotehok."

"I was just going to shoot whoever it was if they tried anything. Still could," she teased, tapping the gun in her hand.

"You are more likely to kill someone with a knife than a gun in close quarters such as these," he replied as he moved through the room toward Napoleon. The glint of the knife at his hip caught her eye as the men greeted each other. The two seemed to have spent at least a few cases together, as the mentioned cases she was not familiar with.

As soon as she took a seat though their focus was on their current problem. Some nazi gold from Argentina had been used to open up a research hospital in Rio. This alone was suspicious enough, but when added to the increased number of missing persons cases involving women, it was enough to warrant UNCLE's presence.

As Solo explained the plan, Illya became agitated, his hands shaking.

"She cannot be used as bait! Has not had enough training," he growled. Gaby was instantly annoyed, but the look in the Russian's eyes was more concerning. She moved closer, taking his hand.

"I've learned a lot, Illya. I can defend myself. Besides, they are kidnapping women, not mountains disguised as men. The day some lunatic starts snatching up giants, it will be your turn to be bait," she laughed, trying to me make him relax. It worked as she felt the tension ease from his hands.

"I do not like this plan," he growled with less force.

"Your objections are noted," Napoleon said calmly. He wasn't thrilled about the plan either, but he felt better knowing that Gaby had Peril and himself for back up.

"And I still have this," Gaby added wiggling her ring finger in the Russians face. The engagement ring he had given her was once again adorning her finger.

"I tried to give her a diamond, but she seems rather attached to the one you got her," Napoleon sighed as if he couldn't fathom a women passing on a diamond.

"Is good ring," Illya shrugged, though they both noticed his proud smirk.

A few hours later, Gaby and Napoleon were enjoying a nice dinner in a little café. The café was within walking distance of several of the places women had been reported missing. The plan for the night was to see and be seen. Solo ordered the most expensive bottle of champagne on the menu, and Gaby was wearing a dress that had every man in the rooms eyes on her. So far the be seen part of the plan was working.

As for the seeing, Illya was perched on a roof across the street watching everyone in the neighborhood. His eyes went back to her every ten seconds like clockwork. His most important mission was keeping her safe. He watched a group of young boys in the alley behind the restaurant. They were probably just loitering, but Illya kept an eye on them anyway. There was a crowd of rowdy men watching football in a bar across the street. There was an elder couple sitting on a bench watching children play in the square. Lovers were strolling down the sidewalk. Everything was as it should be, but Illya still watched. He mentally recorded every person's face. If he saw them again he wanted to recognize them. It was this attention to detail that would save Gaby's life the very next day.

When they were done with dinner, they took a stroll around the square. They stopped to look in shop windows and sat on a bench for a bit to watch the sunset. Back at the hotel Illya got in the elevator right behind him.

" I did not see anything out of the ordinary," he reported mechanically.

"That's a good thing, Peril. The real hunting starts tomorrow when our girl takes her 'solo' shopping trip," Napoleon winked.

Gaby rolled her eyes. Illya glared. Knowing that she was going to be out on her own made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The only way he agreed to let her go was that he would be following her at an inconspicuous distance.

"You remember the order of the shops you will go to?" He asked. They had made an agenda so that he would know where she was headed and could find her if he lost sight of her.

"Yes, Illya, I know the route. Take a cab to rio sul. Start at Cardin, stay 20 minutes, buy a bag…"

"A clutch," the Russian ground out.

"Buy a clutch," she sighed making the word sound ridiculous. "Clutch that will probably cost more than a months salary. Then to Coach for sunglasses. Givenchy, look for 30 minutes, try on something, but buy nothing. Dior for a dress. Pucci where again I buy nothing, even though their clothes are actually cute," she grumbled.

Illya groaned.

"Courreges for a skirt," she continued.

"That was not on the agenda," Illya said confused and annoyed.

"Napoleon thinks I have great legs, and at dinner he said that I should get something to show them off," she grinned, knowing she was pushing his buttons as his eyes twitched. Just then the elevator door opened and Napoleon stepped out.  
"I'm going to let you two sort this out while I go get a night cap. Peril, be a dear and see that Gaby gets tucked in, will you?"

Before either could respond the doors closed again and the elevator continued its journey to the honeymoon suite.

"Do you want to come in for a drink?" She asked when the elevator stopped again. She thought for that he would decline, but as she stepped out, he followed her. "We have rum, gin, or vodka. What would you like?"

"Vodka," he answered absently as he walked around the room. It was a suite, but the bedroom door was open and a king size bed was clearly visible. He rolled his shoulders and tried not to think about what that meant.

"I would offer you a seat on the couch," she commented, noticing his gaze as she handed him a drink, "but it is currently my bed so, I don't know if you would approve."

He turned to see a pillow and blanket folded on the edge of the couch. "The cowboy makes you sleep on the couch?" He asked indignantly.

"He offered to share, but I said no. I am smaller, so it only makes sense that I should sleep on the couch. Besides, in a room like this, the couch is more comfortable than my old bed ever was."

"I still would not let my woman sleep on a couch."

Gaby sighed, "I know, mein berg, but it honestly doesn't bother me. If it did, Napoleon would be on the floor before you can say Раз."

"I am sure he would," he smiled thinking of their first night together, but his thoughts were interrupted by the clock chiming. "I should go, you need your sleep."

"You could stay," Gaby answered quietly. As she spoke, she took his glass, set it on the table next to hers and stepped close enough to touch. Illya searched her eyes. He had thought of her often since their time in Rome, but he still didn't know how he felt about her. Before he had known she was an enemy agent, there had been a strong attraction. Now every time he thought of her, he felt like he was betraying his country. Still, there was a pull that brought his head almost to hers. He could remember the way her lips felt as they brushed his skin, the night she passed out in his arms. He almost closed the distance when the phone rang and they jumped apart.

"Hello," Gaby answered in a voice dripping with fake politeness. "Oh, Waverly, just one minute."  
But when she turned back to him, Illya had disappeared. She tried not to be disappointed as she listened to her orders for the following day.


	2. It all goes to Hell

**The Next Morning**

The day started slowly. Gaby woke up on the couch with an ache in her neck and an itch that hadn't been scratched. The combination made her edgy. As she walked through shops and picked things she could never afford, she could feel his eyes on her, even though she never once spotted him. The itch grew.

By the time she got to Courreges, she had decided that she would buy a mini skirt, if for no other reason than she knew he is watching her and it would make him crazy. The plan was to walk from the shopping center back to the hotel. That would give their fish time to bite. The items she purchased weren't particularly heavy, but she wished she could hand some of the bags to him anyway. It annoyed her that she knew he was somewhere behind her, but she couldn't talk to him.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she walked down the boardwalk. She could hear someone following her. Part of her hoped it is Illya, but the other hope that they have caught their prey. She is almost back to the hotel, when a boy behind her called out to her.

"Señorita, do you have any change?"

She turned slowly to see one boy about 13. Further behind him, she could make out several more. Her eyes darted around in search of Illya's familiar form, but she didn't see him. She opened her purse.

"I don't have much, but…" She holds out a few dollars. The boy looks surprised, almost ashamed. She started to turn back around, when she heard someone call her name, whipped around and everything went to hell.

The day has been long for Illya. His sleep was restless, meaning he woke early feeling itchy. His skin felt too tight. He went for a run to burn off some of the excess energy, but it was no use. As soon as he saw her the tension was back. Spending the morning watching her try on clothes she would probably end up wearing for a mark was irritating. Then she had tried on those damn mini skirts, even made sure to come out of the dressing room and twirl about the store in one.

The walk back to the hotel was better, but his hands twitched as he watched her shuffle he bags for the third time. He wished he could offer to take a few. He was just about to give up on their little fishing expedition and offer, when he saw the same group of boys from the night before following her.

When one boy called to her, she turned and said something to the boy as she dug in her purse. As she handed him a few dollars, Illya watched a bigger boy pull a gun from his coat. In an instant he was running toward her a full speed. He called her name a second before he felt the bullet hit his chest. He took three more steps toward her and then the world went black.

It wasn't the first time she had seen some one shot right in front of her. Living behind the iron curtain made violence a normal occurrence. Still, when she saw Illya fall to the ground her heart stopped. She ran toward him, pulling a small gun from her clutch, but the boys were already disappearing as a crowd gathered around.

She had just rolled him on his back and started to assess the damage when Napoleon came out of nowhere.

"Jesus, Peril, I leave you alone for…."

"Do you something you idiot!" Gaby screamed. Her hands were already putting pressure on the wound. Napoleon checked his pulse and then odd look passed over his face before he started yelling at the crowd to call a doctor in perfectly accented Portuguese.

"When I say, cover his nose and breathe into his mouth," Solo commanded, all hints of humor had disappeared as he checked the Russians airway. He began chest compressions like he had done it a thousand times before. His face was blank except that she could see his lips moving as he silently counted.

"Now!"

She covered his nose, and pushed all the air she could from her lungs to his. How long this continued, she had no idea. Her mind wondered, tethered to earth only by the pattern of Napoleon telling her to breath. The next thing she knew, a paramedic was pushing her away as they began to work on the still unconscious Russian spy. She stumbled back, unable or unwilling to watch as they loaded him into the ambulance.

"You should go with him," Napoleon said, pushing her toward the ambulance.

"I… We aren't… You and I are supposed to…"

"Go, Gaby. He needs you," Solo said, then turned to the paramedic and explained in Portuguese that Gaby was Illya's fiancé. All this went right over Gaby's head as she crouched beside her great mountain, clutching his hand.


	3. Moving on

Chapter Text

She was flipping through Illya's chart the next day, when Napoleon came in.

"Any change?" He asked, though it was clear that the Russian man was still unconscious.

"Nothing," she grumbled. If he was a car, she would already have him back on the road, but he wasn't. He was a man with a collapsed lung, and several broken ribs, who's brain had gone without oxygen. Every time a doctor or nurse came in, they gave her the same look. Pity. She hated pity. So did Illya for that matter. If he would just wake up, he could tell them exactly they could do with there pity, but instead he just kept sleeping, only he wasn't really.

"You should go back to the hotel. You've been here all night. I can stay with him for a while," Napoleon said softly.

"Im fine," she answered shortly. "You should follow the tracker I put on the boy when I handed him the money. If Illya's is going to die over this, we had better at least finish the mission."

"He is not going to die, sweetheart. He is tougher to kill than this," Solo commented, but she just rolled her eyes.

"Go, Napoleon, call me if you get anything."

Not sure what else to do, Napoleon Solo, for once, did as he was told.

* * *

Illya woke up with a terrible headache. As he tried to pull himself from sleep, he became aware of a small hand clutching his tightly. When he squeezed the hand back, it was ripped away. He blinked his eyes and saw Gaby glaring at him as she stood next to the bed. He tried talking, tried to ask her why she was glaring, but she cut him off.

"Good, you are awake. Waverly will be glad he doesn't have to start looking for a new agent," she growled before turning and disappearing from the room. Illya was still wondering what was going on, when Solo walked in a few minutes later.

"Well, good morning, comrade!" He called with a quirked grin. "It is good to see you."

"Yes, I am sure, but can you tell me what is going on?" The Russian asked, trying to remember how he ended up in a hospital.

"It would seem that even while you are in a coma, you have a propensity for agitating the women around you?" Solo replied smoothly.

"How long?"

"Have you been in the hospital?"

Illya nodded.

"Five days, but don't worry you didn't miss much. Gaby dropped tracker on the boy who approached her. We managed to follow it to where the missing women were being held. Their testimony in addition to the files we found, should shut down that research hospital. And in her spare time, our little mechanic has been driving all the doctors and nurses up the walls making sure that they are giving you the very best care possible," Napoleon grinned.

"Was she here often?" The Russian can't help but ask.

"Peril, my friend, she hasn't let this room except when she was leading the raid on the warehouse where the women were being held."

Illya honestly didn't know what to say to that. Luckily, a nurse choose this moment to come in, and Napoleon was distracted enough to let the subject drop.

* * *

Two days later Illya checked out of the hospital against medical advisement. He hadn't seen Gaby since she stormed out the day he woke up. Solo was kind enough to pick him up, though it might have been so that he could hit on the nurses again. On the way to the hotel Solo filled Illya in on what they had found out about organization that they had linked to the kidnappings, THRUSH. They wear still chatting amiable when they walked into the honeymoon suite.

"Back so soo… What are you doing out of the hospital?" Gaby asked indignantly as soon as she looked up and saw Illya still ashen face.

"Doctor said I could go. There was no reason to stay," he answered succinctly.

"I don't think leaving AMA counts as him saying you could go, comrade," Solo commented. Illya glared at him.

"You, you selfish stubborn ass. What are you trying to do kill yourself?" Gaby growled as she walked up and started punctuating every word she said with a firm poke to his chest.

"I think that's my cue to excuse myself," Napoleon mumbled, though neither the other two people in the room couldn't be bothered to stop glaring at each other long enough to acknowledge him.

"There is mission to complete," Illya said, breaking the tense silence.

"We have it well in hand, Peril. You are compromising our mission by coming back before you are ready."

"You need my help," he snapped back, annoyed by her use of the nickname Solo had saddled him with.

"Because a poor, weak woman like me couldn't possible handle an issue on my own?" She asked angrily.

"You know that is not what I mean, Kotehok," he sighed. He didn't know why she was so angry with him, but he was too tired to fight.

"Don't call me that. I am not some kitten that needs your care and protection. I am an agent just like you, Illya Kuryakin. I will have you know that I am the one who thought to plant a tracker on the boy. I am the one who found those women, and I could have done it a lot faster, if someone hadn't gone off half cocked and startled that other boy."

He starred at her in disbelief. His head ached, each breath burned in his chest, and the one thing he wanted to do was sit down, but she just kept hurling accusations at him until her own breath came in heavily gasps.

"I need to sit," he interrupted finally.

"I bet you do, because you should still be in the HOSPITAL!" She screamed.

"Gabriella,"

"Just go lay down," she sighed turning her back on him.

He watched her walk to the sidebar and throw back a shot before he ambled into the bedroom and promptly passed out.

When he woke again, the curtains we're drawn. The clock on the night stand read ten sixteen but he had no idea if it was morning or night. His stomach rumbled. He couldn't remember when he had eaten last. He pushed to a seated position, but then he heard voices in the other room.

"Shh, you'll wake him you idiot!"

He recognized Gaby's voice.

"I don't know why you are being so cold to him, Gaby. He was just trying to keep you safe," Napoleon answered only slightly quieter than normal.

"Don't you think I have enough blood on my hands?" She asked sadly.

"It wasn't your fault," Napoleon insisted.

"When someone jumps in front of a bullet for you and then you have to keep your hands on their chest as their blood soaks your fingers, it feels like your fault," she snapped back, angry again. Illya sighed.

"So you are just going to leave?" Napoleon asked.

"I can't keep watching him get hurt because of me. He won't even kiss me, but he almost died for me. How does that make sense?"

"I am sure it makes perfect sense to our Russian friend. He is more willing to risk himself than someone he cares about."

"Well, that doesn't work for me."

"What should I tell him when he wakes up?" Napoleon asked, trying one last time to stop her.

"Tell him I was reassigned, or went AWOL or I don't really care, Solo, you are creative, you'll come up with something."

A second later Illya heard a door click closed.

"You done it now, Comrade," Napoleon sighed.

"Is she really leaving?" Illya asked, as he stepped out of the bedroom.

"Hard to say Peril," Napoleon shrugged, not surprised that his fellow spy had been spying. "You know our girl is not the type to wear her heart on her sleeve. She took the ring though."

"Where is she headed?"

"You aren't well enough to…"

"WHERE?" Illya's voice thundered through the suite.

"The Safe house where they are keeping the witnesses until the trail," Napoleon sighed as he scribbled down the address and passed it to the other man. As the Russian stormed out the door, Solo swore those two would be the death of him.


	4. Not what he expected

Chapter Text

It turned out it was night. As he made his way through the dark streets, his senses were buzzing. Every shadow, every sound sent his adrenaline pumping. How could she be so stupid as to wonder out alone at night in a foreign city where she didn't know the language. He was almost to the address when he heard her voice.

Gaby was in a foul mood as she walked through the darkened streets. Solo would have said she was looking for a fight. Maybe she was. It wasn't like she could take out her frustrations on their target. The Russian was passed out after her last attack on him. So she took back alleys and strolled through neighborhoods she would usually avoid in day light.

The knives tucked into her sleeve and waist were all she needed to keep her safe. She was almost to the safe house when that hairs on the back of her neck pricked up. There was the sound of almost silent boots behind her. She flexed her fingers, and rolled her shoulders.

" Você está procurando por uma festa?" The man called out. She turned slowly.

"I would leave me alone if I were you," she warned with a sweet smile. The man leered.

"You are pretty lady to be all alone," he answered in broken English.

"I can take care of myself."

"I take good care of you," the man pressed as he closed the distance between them.

"Last warning," she offered. The man grabbed her throat, trying to silence her quickly, but in one swift move her elbow came down breaking the hold and also his wrist.

"Puta!" The man howled, coming her are her again this time with rage in his eyes. She only got in a few good hits before a familiar shadow joined them. She thought she was seeing things until Illya grabbed the man and threw him to the ground.

"What do you think you are doing?" He asked angrily. The last thing he expected when he left the hotel was to find her picking a fight with some street scum. He was so distracted by scolding her, that he turned his back on the scum.

"I was…" She stopped mid sentence, pushing him out of the way. Using the knife in her sleeve, she quickly slashed at the man who had pulled out a gun and was about to shoot Illya in the back. The man stumbled back and she kicked the gun out of his hand toward the Russian. The man cursed in his native tongue as he ran away.

"Well look at that, you were right Illya. You should bring a knife to a gun fight."

His eyes widened. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"I told you I have been training. Further more, I don't think you should be the one lecture me on risky behavior," she challenged.

"I was saving you," he growled back through gritted teeth.

"Maybe I didn't want to be saved!"

The words echoed through the empty streets. Unsure what to say, he simple closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms.

"мой сумасшедшая," he sighed. "все это будет в порядке." Her hand trembled with excess energy waiting to be expressed, but he held her tightly. As the moment stretched around them, her hands worked their way into his jacket, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.

"I am so mad at you," she whispered, her voice cracking as a silent sob shook her body.

"The feeling is sometimes mutual," he sighed. "Come back to the hotel, you are tired. We can discuss tomorrow."

She wanted to say no, to pull away and storm off again, but she didn't have the energy. She was almost asleep on her feet when they walked back into the lobby. As the elevator doors closed, he considered taking her back to the room she had shared with Solo, but instead he led her to his own room.

"This isn't my floor," she mumbled, as the elevator doors opened once more.

"You stay with me tonight," he answered only his inflection letting her know that it was a question. She nodded. When they got to his room, she noted that it was just a typical hotel room with a bed and a chair, not a large suite like she and Napoleon had been enjoying. Completely unfazed, she peeled off her jacket and pants and crawled into bed.

"I will sleep in the chair," Illya said, awkwardly avoiding looking at her until she was tucked under the covers.

"Don't be ridiculous, Illya. You are the one who almost died a few days ago, you need a good nights sleep. Not to mention, I think we are both adult enough to share a bed as big as this," she said, getting back on her knees. She grabbed his hand, pulling him to her. He wanted to argue, but her clever hands were already removing his jacket and shirt. Robotically he let her remove his pants and pull him into bed. Once he was settled, she curled into him just like a kitten. The thought made him chuckle, releasing all the tension that had been thrumming through him.

"What?" She asked propping herself up on his chest with her elbow.

"Nothing, Kotehok, nothing at all," he assured her, but she could see the amusement dancing in eyes. Without all thought, she leaned in and kissed him quickly. It wasn't the kiss of new romance, it was a kiss of old habit, as if they had done it a thousand times.

The kiss that followed an instant later however, was everything she had dreamed of. He had her flipped around trapped under him as his lips pressed to hers, insistent yet surprisingly gentle. She couldn't help it, she nipped his lip, causing him to growl. The growl made her shiver and knew that this was truly their first kiss, but it wouldn't be their last.

A/N: Você está procurando por uma festa? (Are you looking for a party? )

Puta / bitch

мой сумасшедшая / my crazy girl

все это будет в порядке. / it will all be alright.


End file.
